The Conversation Of Eiros And Charmion EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros? CHARMION. So henceforward will you always be called. You must forget, too, my earthly name, and...
The Colloquy Of Monos And Una UNA. “Born again?” MONOS. Yes, fairest and best beloved Una, “born again.” These were the words upon whose mystical meaning I had so long pondered...
Bon-Bon — A Tale. “Notre Gulliver” — dit le Lord Bolingbroke — “a de telles fables.” — Voltaire. That Pierre Bon-Bon was a Restaurateur of uncommon qualifications, no man who...
The Black Cat For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect...
The Angel of the Odd — An Extravaganza It was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually hearty dinner, of which the dyspeptic truffe formed not the...
It is not improbable that a few farther steps in phrenological science will lead to a belief in the existence, if not to the actual discovery and location of an organ of analysis. If this power (which...
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapour, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet...
Of course I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for wonder, that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had it not — especially under the...
